St Valentine's Feast
by Jerusha ferch Rhys
Summary: In 2013, Evaine Morgan and her brothers attempt to revive the dormant Transfer Portal in the Green Tower. The result is not quite what they expected.
1. Chapter 1

St. Valentine's Feast

Part 1 – The Arrival

_The Green Tower_

_Coroth Castle_

_Duchy of Corwyn_

_February 13, 2013_

Evaine Morgan looked up at the bright moonlight pouring through the heavy green glass in the tower window directly across from her. It diffused as it passed through the luminescence of the protective dome that her younger brother had created above their heads just moments before.

The Green Tower had always been her favourite hideaway in Castle Coroth, but now it had a surreal look to it. Except for the bright moonlight coming through the skylight and windows, the only other light came from the eight candles placed at the points of the elaborate octagon outlined in worn tiles in the floor. Evaine and her brothers had rolled back the Kheldish carpet to expose the Transfer Portal late that night, activating the Wards and lighting the candles to be ready when the full moon had reached its zenith

The Portal had been dormant for centuries. From what Evaine had been able to discover in her research, it had been constructed under the auspices of the seventh Duke of Corwyn sometime after 1140 during the reign of King Kelson. Over three hundred years ago! Tonight, they would try to bring it back to life.

"Do you think you could bring your attention back to the present, Evaine? We don't have all night, you know." Dominic Morgan raised one blond eyebrow at his younger sister as she turned her attention back to the Portal. He stood at the eastern side of the octagon, holding out his right hand to grasp her left; she grasped it and held out her right to grasp her younger brother Richard's left, and he closed the circle by joining hands with Dominic. The three of them just managed to encircle the Portal. Evaine glanced at the silver St. Gabriel medal Dominic wore; it was far older than the Portal and had worn so smooth over time that the image of the patron saint of Healers was barely discernable. She wasn't sure how old an object had to be to qualify as something "from the old times", but it was the oldest artefact they had in the ducal collection. She closed her eyes.

Dominic, as was customary, took the lead in the ritual, opening his mind to his sister and brother. Green light glowed around their heads and was soon followed by a swirling current of energy as they drew deeper from their combined resources to re-energize the Portal. A final, blinding flash completed the ritual, and after a moment they opened their eyes. As one they stepped back from the Portal and stared in disbelief at the man who now stood in its centre, their Deryni shields snapping into place.

The man who had not been there a moment before looked as shocked as Evaine felt. He was a tall man, dressed in a long, dark green tunic and hose of a darker shade. He had golden-blond, short cropped hair and at this time of night, beard stubble on his chin and jaw. She couldn't tell what colour his eyes were in the dim light in the tower, but he looked at each of them directly, consternation apparent on his handsome face. A white belt was fastened around his waist, from which hung a sword in a jewelled scabbard. His hand moved toward the hilt of that sword as his gaze stopped on Dominic.

"Who are you?" the man asked, using an older version of Gwyneddan that Evaine was more familiar with than her brothers.

_"He wants to know who you are," _she sent Dominic.

_"I don't have to be a Kelsonian scholar to guess that," _he shot back and then straightened his shoulders a bit before replying. "I am Lord Dominic Anthony Morgan, the twenty-seventh Duke of Corwyn and Dean of St. Gabriel's College of Healers." His voice held the same note of authority as had the man's who stood on the Portal. He nodded in Richard's direction. "This is my brother, Sir Richard Nigel Morgan, attaché to His Majesty, King Donel Rhys Haldane of Gwynedd. My sister, Lady Evaine Alazais Morgan, stands next to him. She is the Assistant Curator of the Royal Gwyneddan Museum's Kelsonian Archives," he added as an afterthought. "And you, sir?"

At that moment, Evaine recognized him. He was the man in the portrait that hung in the gallery off of the great hall. "He is our grandfather, many times removed," Evaine stated before the man on the Portal could respond, and then repeated herself in older Gwyneddan.

The man looked at her askance, understanding most of what she said in spite of her odd pronunciation. Finally, he gave a slight bow in her direction. "I am Lord Alaric Anthony Morgan, seventh Duke of Corwyn, King's Champion, and Lord Protector of the South." The two dukes eyed each other warily.

"I think," Richard said, "we should release the Wards now." At Dominic's nod of approval, Richard proceeded with the ritual to disperse the Wards.

Alaric Morgan watched the younger man intently, reassured that the proper protocol had been followed. Richard was aware of the scrutiny and resisted the temptation to end with a flourish. Evaine extinguished the candles with a sweep of one hand and then moved over to the wall and switched on the lights.

Alaric's eyes narrowed at the sudden, unfamiliar light. He was not where he ought to be, that much was certain. He was outnumbered, but there were no weapons other than his own in the ritual circle. He felt the subtle probe against his shields as he sent a similar probe against Duke Dominic's; he sensed something familiar in that brief touch. Perhaps they were who they said they were, but whether they were or not, he would get no answers if he continued standing here in silence. After another moment of hesitation, he resolutely stepped from the Portal and unhooked his sword, offering it hilt first to Dominic. "As I am your guest, I offer my sword in acceptance of your hospitality."

Dominic glanced briefly at his sister, and at her nod, reached forward to accept the sword. "Thank you, Your Grace." He motioned to a circular table and the chairs placed around it. "I suggest we make ourselves comfortable while we figure out what happened and what we're going to do about it."

"If we maintain a light rapport," Evaine ventured, "we should be able to understand each other well enough without my having to translate."

Alaric studied the woman thoughtfully. He could sense no threat from her or her brothers. He lowered his shields just enough to allow the contact. "Fair enough. I'm afraid I'm developing a large number of questions at this point." Alaric moved to the table, pulled out the nearest chair and motioned for Evaine to sit. He sat in the chair beside her.

_"Don't get used to that,"_ Richard sent. Evaine stopped short of the traditional childhood response of sticking her tongue out at him and smiled.

"You are not the only one with a list of questions, Your Grace, and there are three of us," Dominic said, giving a warning look to the youngest Morgans in the room. He leaned the sword carefully against a tall wood cabinet and sat in the chair across from Alaric.

Alaric Morgan looked around the tower thoughtfully, noting what was familiar and what was not. The room itself was definitely his tower retreat, but many of the contents of the room were different. His large _shiral_ crystal rested on its gryphon claw on a small round stand by one of the green windows. His gaze fell on an ornately carved box on nearby shelf; that, he was certain, was his. Although it was new to him, he was impressed by an old tapestry hanging above the hearth. It was a magnificent depiction of the green Corwyn Gryphon on its sable field, but he noted that the gold tressure lacked the Morgan flory counter-flory.

"When am I?" he finally asked.

"The year is 2013, Your Grace," Evaine answered, "and the day is February 13th. When was it when you…left?"

"It was the day before the Feast day of Saint Valentine, 1145."

For a moment, no one spoke. Dominic fingered the St. Gabriel medal on its chain. "What exactly were you doing at the time, Duke Alaric?"

Alaric looked thoughtful. "I was going to try the Portal for the first time. My wife, Richenda, along with my cousin, Duncan McLain, had assisted me in constructing the Portal earlier that night. I was going to Dhassa to prove to Bishop Arilan that we had successfully constructed one. He was annoyed that we were not including him in the construction, but I didn't want him to have the coordinates. At least not right away."

"You didn't want the Camberian Council popping in on you unannounced?" Evaine asked with a smile.

"You know about the Council? It still exists today?"

The three Morgan siblings looked at each other.

_"How much can we tell him?"_ Richard sent. _"Anything we reveal, he'll take back with him."_

_"If we can get him back,"_ Dominic responded.

_"We have to get him back! He has to be with King Kelson in 1152 or there will be no Haldane legacy!"_ The urgency of Evaine's thought came clearly through the link that had temporarily excluded Alaric.

Alaric was aware that he was outside of the current dialogue, but also realized that he would likely have done the same thing. Nevertheless, he wanted an answer.

"Forgive us for being rude, Your Grace." Dominic turned his attention back to Alaric. "We must be careful that any information or experiences that you take back with you - assuming of course that you will remember them - can't influence your future actions. We, and all that we are familiar with, would like to still be here after you return to 1145."

"You're confident I can return?"

"Truthfully, no," Dominic responded. "But we Morgans are a stubborn lot, as you may be aware."

"The trait has been brought to my attention from time to time." Alaric smiled and then added, "Can you answer my question?"

Richard nodded. "I believe we can answer it, Your Grace. Not only does the Council still exist, but I have been approached to take a seat on the Council. Arilan originally approached Dom, but he declined, fearing it might conflict with his responsibilities to the College of Healers."

"There's still an Arilan on the Council?" Alaric asked incredulously.

"Yes," Evaine said with a grin. "There always seems to be one on the Council, but this one is Father Sextus Arilan, not Bishop Denis."

Dominic looked thoughtful. "It would seem that we re-energized the Portal at the same time you initiated the first transfer. The massive energy shift must have moved you through time as well as space. But whether or not we can do it again…."

"Duncan and Richenda won't give up on me yet," Alaric stated with certainty. "They'll contact Bishop Arilan and determine I never appeared in Dhassa. They'll try something, but I can't guess at what."

Evaine looked at the_ shiral _crystal on its gryphon perch. "Is there any hope Duke Alaric could contact them through the_ shiral_?" she asked.

Richard shook his head. "It's been tried before, using the_ shiral_ in the Council chambers, but with no success. Of course, when it was tried, they didn't have someone from the past to use as a conduit. At least no one living, that is," he added wryly.

Evaine wrinkled her nose. "Spare me the details, please."

"I'm willing to try," Alaric stated. "It's likely Duncan and Richenda will try that, though they won't have any idea the problem is 'when," not 'where."

Richard leaned across the table, the excitement of the challenge reflected in his grey eyes. "Before Alaric attempts to make contact, we need a plan of action. The contact may be very short; we need to let them know how we intend to try to send him back."

Dominic raised a blond eyebrow. "I would agree, provided we had a plan."

"Maybe we do."

The two dukes exchanged glances. "What do you propose?" Alaric asked, intrigued by the younger man's air of growing confidence.

"I think our best chance of sending you back is to duplicate what we did tonight. The Portal is already energized, but we can duplicate the ritual and focus our energies on sending you back to the right time in the same place." Richard looked at each of the other two men. "There may be enough residual energy from that first exchange to link you back to the correct time. We need to do this at precisely the same time tomorrow. We shouldn't wait any longer, or we'll lose that link."

"Do you agree?" Alaric asked the current Duke of Corwyn.

"Richard is the most broadly trained in magic of the three of us, having studied in Andelon as well as Torenth. I am well enough trained, but my focus has been on Healing."'

"Dominic is recognized as the most accomplished Healer of our generation," Evaine interrupted.

"Thank you, little sister." Dominic waved a self-depreciating hand but smiled warmly at her nonetheless. "As I was about to say, I trust his analysis of the situation. He's adept at getting to the bottom of things and understanding complicated relationships, which is why he's on His Majesty's staff and not tucked away in some university tower."

"There is one small flaw," Evaine ventured.

"What?" Richard eyed his sister suspiciously.

"Tomorrow is now today, and has been for several hours."

"Trust the historian to nit-pick the finer points."

"That's why you love me, little brother."

"Peace," Dominic demanded, raising one hand to cut off further sparring.

Alaric leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs. In spite of the situation, he felt a sense of familial indulgence. There was no lack of self-confidence in any of them, from what he could determine in such a short time. Nor lack of the ability to size up a situation and take action. The family resemblance was there too, though changed in the woman. Dominic and Richard had his colouring, but the woman's fair face and grey eyes were framed by alarmingly short, raven hair. Perhaps one of his heirs at some point had married into the Haldane line. Or, Heaven forbid, had married an Arilan! He put that thought aside, running his fingers across his eyes to invoke a fatigue banishing spell. They would all need to rest, and soon.

Dominic had noticed the gesture and suppressed his own desire to yawn. He looked across at Richard. "Do you think we should try to contact Duncan and Richenda now, or wait until morning? Or rather, later this morning," he corrected, as he noted the sunlight that began to filter through the tower windows.

"What do you think, Your Grace?" Richard deferred the question to Alaric. "You know them better than we do. They may be more receptive to our contact if we attempt to contact one of them while they are asleep."

"I think now would be best," Alaric responded after a moment's thought. "They were likely up most of the rest of the night, trying to figure out where I went." He stood up and brought the_ shiral_ crystal over to the table, centering the Gryphon claw between them. "If you'll lend me whatever energy you can, I'll try for Richenda first."


	2. Chapter 2 - Part 2 - A Feast of Hearts

Part 2 - A Feast of Hearts

_The Green Tower_

_Coroth Castle_

_Duchy of Corwyn_

_February 14, 2013_

Evaine Morgan paused outside the heavy, carved wooden door of the Green Tower's study. She had slept longer than she intended, and it was now past noon. In the early morning hours, Duke Alaric had first tried to contact Richenda through the _shiral_, but with no perceived success. He had then tried for Bishop Duncan and, just before giving up, he had felt the slightest brush of consciousness. They had all three poured their flagging energy into that slight contact to try to convey the plan they would try tonight.

She touched her signet ring to the precise spot on the door to allow her entry. Normally they would not have placed a Deryni lock on the door, but given the presence of their guest inside, Dom had suggested the extra precaution.

She opened the door to find her brother Richard stretched full length on his back on the Kheldish carpet.

"Did you sleep on the floor?" she asked. "Or did his Grace tire of your company and knock you flat?"

Richard grinned up at her, rising to his feet as he spoke. "Neither. I was stretching my back. I let Duke Alaric have your roll-away cot, which I hope was a lot more comfortable than the couch."

"That was very gallant of you. Where is Duke Alaric, by the way?"

"He's freshening up in the bathroom. Remember that old straight razor of Grandfather's you wanted to get rid of? Alaric was quite comfortable with it, and I thought it better than trying to explain how an electric razor works. As it was, I had to explain how the toilet and sink worked."

"Oh dear, I should have thought of that. On the other hand, maybe it's better that you explained it to him."

As if on cue, the door to the bathroom opened and Alaric Morgan stepped out, freshly shaven and with the collar of a modern white shirt visible at the neck of his tunic.

"Good afternoon, Lady Evaine," Alaric said with a slight bow.

"Good afternoon, your Grace," Evaine responded with a slight curtsey, causing Richard to raise one eyebrow. "I hope you slept well enough."

Alaric smiled. "Yes, I did, much better than I expected to. Your cot is quite comfortable; I wish I had one for my days on campaign."

"I'm afraid I can't provide you one, but I can provide lunch. It will be a bit later that normal, but hopefully satisfying. We'll have to serve ourselves though, since we can't allow staff up here at the moment." Evaine had a sudden thought and looked up at Alaric with concern. "I hope you're not feeling like we're keeping you a prisoner in your own tower."

"Better than keeping me a prisoner in my own dungeons," he responded wryly and then hastened to add, "I completely understand. I would do the same. I can only imagine the reaction of your people to my sudden appearance dressed as I am. I know the stir you would create at my Court if you showed up dressed as you are now!"

Evaine looked down at her jeans and gave him a sheepish smile. "Comfort was my first priority today. If I might borrow Richard for a bit, we'll bring up lunch."

"Of course. I'll just make myself at home."

Richard chuckled and opened the door for his sister.

They were not gone long, returning with three covered serving trays and slightly out of breath. Duke Dominic had joined them and also carried a wine tote over one shoulder. He let out a gusty breath as he set his tray down on the table.

"We have a second Portal on the grounds, but we didn't want to use it for fear of disturbing the link that we hope remains in this one. That's a lot of steps to carry food up."

"One of us," Evaine said wickedly, "has not maintained his fighting trim. And besides, it would have looked a little odd."

"Careful," Dominic said, patting the wine tote at his side, "or I won't share any of this with you."

"Then it will add to your waistline, brother dear, not mine," Evaine responded with a knowing nod at Richard. The current Duke of Corwyn was far from overweight, but his middle was a bit thicker than it once was.

"You have a second Portal?" Alaric asked as Evaine and Richard began uncovering platters and arranging the contents around the table.

Dominic hesitated a moment, than nodded. "Yes. Let's just say that circumstances at the time required the family to construct it in a less than ideal location. It's in the tomb of the first Duke Dominic."

"Carrying in a St. Valentine's feast to share with our long dead ancestor would have looked odd," Richard added, "even for us."

"I don't suppose you can share what the circumstances were?" Alaric looked hopeful.

"Definitely not, your Grace," Evaine responded.

Alaric sighed and took a seat at the table, surveying the plate of food set before him. It looked wholesome enough, but he had no idea what some of it was.

"We now eat from individual plates, rather than communal ones. I took the liberty of arranging for some foods you won't have tasted before," Evaine explained as she slid her chair in closer to the table. "You will have had steak before, but this one is served with a mushroom and bourbon sauce." She pointed to an oblong shape with a white substance piled on top. "This is a baked potato with sour cream and chives. The yellow vegetable beside it is corn on the cob with butter. I also added a fresh green salad with oil and vinegar dressing."

"This," Dominic declared as he removed a wine bottle from the tote, "should be more familiar, though the packaging is different. A nice Fianna red."

_"He brought up a Fianna red?"_ Richard sent to Evaine as their brother uncorked the bottle_. _

_"He didn't want Duke Alaric to find our hospitality lacking, plus I talked him into it."_

Alaric poked a finger at the salad and then looked at the woman beside him incredulously. "Fresh greens this time of year?"

Richard smiled. "Yes, Duke Alaric. We are able to bring in fresh items from lands where the climate is warmer. The corn comes from New Cassan."

_"Richard!"_ Evaine hissed.

"New Cassan?" Alaric feigned nonchalance, picking up a wedge of tomato from his salad to taste.

"I suppose it would be alright," Evaine sighed. "New Cassan is a land that was discovered across the Atalantic Ocean, several hundred years after your time." She looked across the table at Dominic. "Even if he wanted to try it, there are few ships built yet that could make it, and I doubt even Duke Alaric could convince anyone to try."

"Why is it called New Cassan?" Alaric licked a dollop of sour cream off the tip of his index finger.

Evaine responded with an impish smile and stated, "They had to do something with all those extra McArdry-McLain sons, so they sent them off to find more space."

Alaric burst into a laugh, picked up the knife beside his plate and began to cut off a slice of steak. He stopped, looking askance at Evaine as she inserted a narrow, comb-like object into her meat, apparently to hold it while cutting. He watched carefully as she used the implement to carry the food to her mouth. Perhaps only women used such things? He watched carefully as the other men followed the same ritual.

"It's called a fork, Your Grace," Evaine explained gently. "It allows for eating with less mess. It's one reason we no longer need to pass around a water basin during the meal." Carefully, she demonstrated using the fork to sample the baked potato.

Alaric resolutely picked up his own fork and stuck it in his meat. After a few careful attempts, he had almost mastered the technique. He stopped with the fork hovering above his corn on the cob, not quite sure how to approach it.

Dominic reached forward and grasped his own corn with both hands. "The corn is meant to be eaten with your hands," he said before sinking his teeth into his portion.

"Thank goodness!"

They all laughed. The conversation turned to general family information. Dominic produced pictures from his wallet of his wife and two sons, explaining that they were in Rhemuth for the boys' school science trip. Richard declared that he travelled far too often on the King's business to consider a wife and family yet, but he enjoyed the social aspects of his trips. Evaine remained silent.

"Duke Dominic," Alaric began, pausing to sniff the bouquet of the fine wine in his glass, "you are a Healer. How fare Healers now in this time?"

"We've earned the respect of the traditional medical community, though it's been a rough road from time to time. There still aren't enough of us, which doesn't help." Dominic sipped his wine wistfully. "We have managed to make considerable progress and are able to Heal at a deeper level than could be achieved previously. The knowledge is universally shared among all Healers. We have a duty to our people. All of them."

Alaric nodded, appreciating the dedication that caused the intensity of Dominic's last statement. "How many Healers are there now?"

"There are not more than one hundred fifty or so in all of the Eleven Kingdoms. Torenth still has the highest number, with Gwynedd a close second. The rest are somewhat evenly distributed in the other Kingdoms. New Cassan may have fifty."

"We still don't know what makes a Healer," Richard interjected. "It can be inherited, of course, and there have been many Morgan Healers. It's not passed to every generation, though, and the talent may disappear in any line for decades. Sometimes it seems to appear out of nowhere in an individual with no family history of it at all."

"Female Healers remain a rarity," Evaine added.

"One still hopes whenever a Healer has a child. Perhaps when my daughter is born…." Dominic stopped at the shocked looks on the faces of his brother and sister.

"Daughter? What daughter?" they asked in unison.

Dominic beamed at the Morgans seated at the table. "I suppose I forgot to mention that, the other day."

"Now I understand the Fianna," Richard said dryly.

"Congratulations, Your Grace." Alaric stood, raising his glass of wine. "To the health and safe delivery of your wife and daughter!"

Dominic acknowledged the toast with a nod of his head and accepted a delighted hug from his sister.

"What of you, Lady Evaine?" Alaric asked after they settled back into their seats. "You are not yet betrothed or married?"

"No, I am not."

Dominic and Richard exchanged glances as Evaine declined further comment.

"Your pardon, Lady Evaine," Alaric said as the silence continued.

"I'm sorry, Duke Alaric. I should not have been so abrupt. I was engaged once, to a weasel, but I ended it when I caught him sleeping with my former best friend."

Alaric Morgan looked shocked. Whether it was because she had broken her engagement, or whether he actually thought she had intended to marry a small, furry animal, Evaine wasn't sure. Or perhaps it had been her open admission of this particular weasel's infidelity.

"Diplomacy has never been one of Evaine's gifts," Richard said quietly, "but she wasn't far off the mark."

"It was last year, at about this time," Evaine offered apologetically. "I'm still angry."

"I understand; there's no need to explain further." Alaric decided to change the topic. "How fare Deryni in the Eleven Kingdoms now?"

"Right now, we fare very well," Richard replied. "We are still few, compared to the general population, but generally we are accepted without much reservation."

"It has not always been the case, though, which is one of the reasons New Cassan has a larger concentration of Deryni," Evaine supplied.

"Would that be a reason for the unfortunate location of the second Portal?" Alaric asked after savouring the last bite of his potato.

"It might be," Evaine acknowledged with a smile. "Clever try, Duke Alaric."

"Actually, that's a large part of my role as King Donel Rhys's attaché," Richard ventured. "I need to keep abreast of public sentiment toward our people, be aware of suspected abuses of power. The greatest concentration of Deryni blood is still in the noble families of the Eleven Kingdoms. Any abuse of power can put us in a precarious position. Times have changed; the king no longer wields absolute power. There have been times when he had no power at all."

Alaric digested this bit of information thoughtfully.

"Isn't Prince Nigel due back from New Cassan soon?" Dominic asked his brother.

"Prince Nigel?" Alaric asked with a slight start.

"Not the Prince Nigel you know, Your Grace," Evaine provided, keeping the tone of her voice carefully neutral. "He's King Donel Rhys's youngest brother. He's due back from New Cassan next week."

Evaine's brothers exchanged a glance over the top of her head.

"Prince Nigel has been in New Cassan for the past four years as his Majesty's personal ambassador," Richard supplied. "Every so often some political faction in New Cassan decides that a kingdom independent of Gywnedd would be in their best interest. As you can imagine, several other kingdoms think a twelfth kingdom and a reduced Gwynedd would be in their best interests as well."

"Prince Nigel is skilled at putting his best foot forward and showing both Gwynedd and Deryni in the best possible light," Dominic added. "He's a shrewd negotiator and no man's fool."

Evaine felt it was time to move on, so she produced a small crystal bowl filled with red foil-wrapped, chocolate hearts. "I hope you saved room for the sweet course, Duke Alaric."

"If you insist, I shall make the effort." Alaric selected a heart, unwrapped it and studied the chocolate. He winked at Evaine and popped it into his mouth. "Delicious," he murmured. He looked at the message printed inside the wrapper and passed it to Evaine. "Might you translate this for me?" he asked.

"Of course. It says, 'Always give her flowers.'"

"Ah, wise advice, to be sure."

Dominic and Richard each shared the messages inside their hearts, both humorous references to sneaking kisses from girlfriends.

"I don't think I'll follow that advice," Dominic declared with a raised eyebrow. "I'd like to live to see my daughter born. What does yours say, Evaine?"

Evaine hesitated for a moment, finally replying, "It says 'You will find true love.'"

"You should listen to your heart, Evaine," Alaric said quietly.

"I think it's time to clear the table," Evaine responded quickly, annoyed that she felt herself blushing.


	3. Chapter 3 - Part 3 - Fare Thee Well

Part 3 - "Fare Thee Well"

_The Green Tower_

_Coroth Castle_

_Duchy of Corwyn_

_February 14, 2013_

Evaine Morgan watched the seventh Duke of Corwyn pace restlessly around the tower study, hands clasped behind his back, pausing occasionally to look closer at various objects in the room. It was late afternoon, edging into a typically early winter evening. He paused before an ornately carved box, picked it up and brought it over to the table.

Evaine was the only other occupant in the room. Her brothers had left her to provide company for the duke while they attended to other matters for a while. She was seated at the table, reviewing a newly published book on Gwynedd in the twelfth century. She didn't agree with several significant points in the research and made notes on a pad of paper. She would have preferred to use her laptop, but had decided it was best not to in front of their guest.

"We've never been able to open that box," she said. "We're sure it's been locked magically, but we've never been able to counter the spell."

"I am glad to hear that. I would be disappointed to know that my spell had been broken or had worn off."

"It is yours, then! I thought it was from the twelfth century, carved from highland timber." Evaine happily pushed the book aside to give Alaric Morgan her full attention.

"It was a gift from Duncan. It's a puzzle box, and he wouldn't tell me how to open it. I had to figure it out for myself." Alaric deftly slid two slats of wood forward, one on each side of the box, and then one on the back of the box to one side.

"I was able to get that far," Evaine said while watching him closely and resisting the temptation to take notes. "But never any farther."

"No," Alaric said with a slight shake of his head. "Nothing else will open, until you do this." Alaric placed the face of his signet ring against the wood revealed beneath the last wooden slat he had moved. He then turned the slat downward, and the lid rose a quarter inch upward. He removed the lid and smiled.

"That's not fair, you know."

"It was perfectly fair," Alaric favoured Evaine with a mischievous grin. "I added the spell after I finally figured out how to open the box. Then I told Duncan I had given up and asked him to show me how it worked. I let him become suitably frustrated before I showed him what I had done."

"He forgave you?"

"Of course," Alaric replied, his grin broadening. "He is a priest. Shall we see what is still inside?"

Evaine moved closer and peered inside the box. There were only a few items; she suspected that Alaric Morgan was not the type to hang on to frivolous things. There was a small square linen packet, wrapped in a faded blue ribbon; a small seashell; and a magnificent pendant with what looked to be a _shiral_ crystal supported by a golden lion on one side and a golden gryphon on the other. There was also a heavy gold ring that Alaric picked up, looking both surprised and concerned.

"Whatever is this doing here?" he asked, more to himself than to Evaine.

"What is it?" Evaine asked.

Alaric turned the ring so she could see the golden lion of Gwynedd etched into a cabochon cut onyx stone. "It's my King's Champion ring. The same as this one." He looked at the identical signet on his right hand. His face had a look of deep concern. "Did Kelric not succeed me as Champion?"

"He did, Your Grace. That fact is recorded in the Morgan archives. I also know that King Kelson had a second Champion's ring made, though I don't know specifically why."

"How do you know?"

"It was recorded in the King's accounts in the year 1153. It was an expensive entry." Evaine hesitated a moment, then lightly squeezed his hand. "Don't worry. Kelric becomes a fine Champion." She had a thought and then asked, "Were you the only one that could open the box?"

"No, I set a second spell for Duncan, so he could also open it." Alaric shook his head. "I guess this will have to remain a mystery then, until I find out what happens."

"At least you will find out, Duke Alaric. It may remain a mystery to me," she said ruefully.

Alaric replaced the ring in the box and then paused before closing it. "Would you like to be able to open this box after I leave?"

"Yes, your Grace, I would like that very much!"

"We'll use this," he said, pointing to the signet ring she wore with its Corwyn gryphon, labeled for the eldest daughter, "to set a third spell."

Deepening the light rapport they continued to use to communicate easily, he set the additional spell for Evaine's ring. Once finished, he closed the box.

"Now try it." He sat back and watched as Evaine carefully slid the correct slats and touched her ring to the box under the third. As the lid lifted, she flashed the duke a brilliant smile.

Alaric Morgan felt his heart skip a beat. He knew that smile as well as he knew his own reflection in a garden pond. It was Richenda's smile, but set in a different face. He stood and walked thoughtfully over to one of the closed green windows as Evaine closed the box and returned it to the shelf.

"Would you like to see outside, Duke Alaric, before the day's light is gone?"

He smiled down at her. "Yes, my lady, I would like that very much."

Evaine swung open the window casement, stepping back so Alaric could see the view.

Alaric found himself looking into the castle courtyard. Most of it was familiar, but there were changes here, too. Someone had added a fountain in the centre of the courtyard, and whatever was that thing in front of the steps leading to the door?

Evaine sensed his consternation, and peered to see what he was looking at. It was Dom's car.

"That is called a car." At his blank look, she attempted to explain further. "It's a machine, like a, um, siege machine, only we use it to transport people."

"You are not planning on ramming someone through my front door, are you?"

"No, certainly not." Evaine did her best to suppress a laugh. "But it will carry someone through the castle gates and into town. " She motioned toward the window on the opposite side of the room. "You can see Coroth from this side."

He followed her eagerly across the room, and she opened the window.

Alaric's eyes widened at the expanse of Coroth that stretched before him. The last rays of sunlight glinted off tall buildings with smooth sides and countless windows. The crane that he had commissioned for Coroth Harbour had multiplied tenfold, each one reaching higher than he would ever have thought possible.

He drew back from the window and quickly crossed the room to snatch up a spyglass he had noticed earlier. Expanding it as he crossed back to the window, he used it to get a closer look at his town below.

He finally turned from the window, collapsed the spyglass, and handed it back to Evaine. His face was set with firm resolve.

"I have to go back. I do not belong here."

Evaine understood, and walked beside him back to the table.

"There is something that puzzles me, Lady Evaine," Alaric said as he resumed his seat at the table.

"What is that, Duke Alaric?"

He pointed at the book on the table. "You study the history of my time period, yet you have not asked me a single question about it."

"It's not that I haven't wanted to," Evaine replied ruefully. "It's just that, well, how can I avoid using the information?" She flicked a page of the book derisively. "I can hardly counter this drivel with a footnote that says, 'Related to me by the seventh Duke of Corwyn, in person, February 2013.'"

Alaric Morgan chuckled. "That could be a problem. On the other hand, if my answers at least pointed your research in the correct direction…."

Evaine's face broke into an all too familiar smile. "If you put it like that, I think I can keep you busy until it's time for dinner."

Alaric smiled back and made himself comfortable. The time passed quickly, and Evaine took copious notes.

###

Evaine Morgan studied the bright moonlight pouring through the green tower windows. At the moment, she had nothing to do but wait.

They had planned to follow the same steps they had followed the night before in order to try to duplicate, as exactly as possible, the events that had snatched Alaric Morgan from his own time and brought him to theirs. They had decided to have a light supper and then retire to rest until the moon rose. Evaine had arranged for a meal of chicken sandwiches and fresh fruit, which they had eaten mostly in silence, until Duke Alaric had suggested he should participate in the night's preparations. Dominic had vetoed the idea out of hand, but Alaric insisted that playing a part in the preparations could only strengthen whatever link might still exist from the previous transfer. Richard had listened to both sides intently, and she had stayed firmly out of the discussion. Neither of the two Dukes of Corwyn was willing to give way, and Richard's best diplomatic skills were falling short.

"Peace!" she had finally declared, slapping both hands flat on the table before her to get everyone's attention. Three pairs of startled grey eyes turned toward her. She took a deep breath.

"I think we all understand the risks involved and the fact we can't be sure this will work at all. Dom, if it was you in Duke Alaric's predicament, would you be willing to stand back and leave this totally in someone else's hands?" She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

Dominic's eyes narrowed as he studied his sister and then looked toward his brother. "What do you think?"

"About the best thing to do or whether I think you would sound remarkably like Duke Alaric?" He quickly held up a hand to forestall Dominic's answer. "What I really think is that it can't hurt. He can't set the wards, since they aren't attuned to him and he can't use his own, if he has them with him. He could place the candles and light them, though. Only you can the initiate the activation, because he has to be on the Portal, focusing on his time. It will still be the three of us forming the circle as before."

Dominic looked across at Alaric. "Will that be acceptable?"

"Yes, it will be acceptable," Alaric had responded, and Evaine had breathed a sigh of relief.

Now she stood waiting while Alaric lit the candles. He had exchanged his borrowed shirt for the one he had arrived in. As he lit the last candle, Dominic came forward, holding the sword Alaric had also arrived with and offering it back to him, hilt first. The candlelight reflected off the St. Gabriel medal Dominic again wore.

"You have been an honoured guest in our house," Dominic said formally. "Safe travels, Your Grace." Alaric gave a half bow and fastened the sword to the worn white belt around his waist.

Richard drew a deep breath and prepared to issue the final command to raise the dome that would keep the energy they would release safely inside.

"Wait!" Alaric quickly stepped to the table and selected two chocolate hearts from the crystal bowl Evaine had left on the table after lunch. He tucked them into his belt pouch and then returned to stand on the Portal.

"Richenda and Duncan will never believe me if I do not bring back some sort of proof. I am ready now, please proceed."

There was no time left to argue about whether two chocolate hearts would change the course of history.

_"Fiat lux!" _

Dominic, Richard and Evaine arranged themselves in a circle around the Portal, holding hands as they had before. The candles flickered eerily in the moonlight that now filtered through the dome above their heads.

"Fare thee well," Alaric Morgan said, standing straight and tall in the centre of the Portal. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The final, blinding flash of energy had faded before Evaine dared to open her eyes. The Portal was empty.

No one spoke, until finally Richard said, "I think we did it."

"Can we be sure? How do we know we didn't just send him into nothingness?" Evaine's voice conferred her deep concern combined with a threat of tears.

"If he hadn't made it, he would have bounced back," Richard responded, crossing over to where she stood and wrapping her in a comforting hug.

"We could try to contact him through the_ shiral_, couldn't we?" Evaine asked hopefully, looking across at her older brother for support.

"We could," Dominic responded, "but first, Richard should release the wards, and you should extinguish the candles."

Evaine nodded. "Just like before."

"It can't hurt," Richard said.

###

_The Green Tower_

_Coroth Castle_

_Duchy of Corwyn_

_February 15, 2013_

Evaine Morgan removed her hands from the large _shiral_ crystal sitting in its gryphon claw. Dim sunlight filtered through the green glass of the tower windows. It had started to rain and the grey weather matched her mood. She had returned to the Green Tower to try to contact Alaric Morgan one last time.

She knew she should feel relieved that Duke Alaric had vanished from the Portal, but not knowing for sure where, or rather, when, he had returned bothered her. They had had no more success in reaching Alaric Morgan last night using the_ shiral_ than she had just now. If Richard were in the tower with her, he would have reminded her that without Duke Alaric's presence, their conduit to the past was gone, and further contact was unlikely. That didn't help at all.

She sighed, pushing her chair back from the table. Her gaze fell on the printed email she had carried up to the tower with her.

It was from Nigel. He had invited her to accompany him to a seminar on Duke Ewan McEwan and the role he had played as Lord Marshall of the Gwynedd Royal Council during the reign of King Brion Haldane. An offer he knew she would find difficult to refuse, yet she had refused him before.

She and Prince Nigel Haldane had known each other practically since the week they were born. They had grown up as playmates, then friends, then grew closer still. Nigel had asked her to go with him when his brother the king had decided to send him to New Cassan for four years, and she had turned him down. Though she cared for him deeply, she had been in the middle of writing her first book and didn't want to take a leave of absence from her position at the Royal Gwyneddan Museum. It was a plausible excuse, though she had known he didn't buy it. She simply had not wanted to take on the expectations and responsibilities required by Nigel's position. So he had left and she had stayed.

Maybe she would accept Nigel's invitation this time. Evaine spied Duke Alaric's ornately carved box on the shelf across the room. "Follow your heart," he had said. Fat lot of good that had ever done her.

Evaine retrieved the box and set it on the table in front of her. Carefully she moved the wooden slats to reveal the precise spot that awaited contact with her signet ring. If it didn't work, she knew she would be devastated, but she decided to try. She set her ring to the box, turned the last slat, and to her great relief, the lid rose upward.

She removed the lid, surveyed the contents, and froze.

There, in the middle of the box, lay two carefully folded squares of red foil.

They had done it! Alaric Morgan was safely home in his own time! And the seventh Duke of Corwyn had managed to send her a message, after all.


End file.
